I'm tired.

I don’t know exactly where I want to take this type of post, but I have a lot of pent up emotions and annoyances that I want to express. When I was younger, I always used to blog about everything that would happen to me in a school related, astral projecting, reincarnation, or anything that would be of interest to me. I would seldom share with the readers of my blog about my problems and issues I had within myself, within the relationships I formed with others and family. This will be a two-parter depending on how much pent up annoyance, aggression and amount of how tired I truly am.

Let’s start with the immediate family, since as the word and terminology has it, I see them immediately. My mother. She is someone I enjoy being around, or used to enjoy being around supposedly. I ironically enough, used to look up to her. Now, I practically despise, almost borderline pity her. Growing up, people assumed that I was constantly around my mom. That in all technicalities is true, however, she worked all the time. She also enjoyed going to clubs and having a good time with her friends opposed to wanting to be there for me. I seemed like an afterthought to her for awhile, which children that young don’t want to be seen this way, and if the child is perceptive enough at that age, guess what, they ask questions. Since my mom moved back down from Chicago, she moved back in with her parents. I spent the bulk of my time with my Nana and grandpa, who I called “Dad” because let’s face it, my biological father didn’t want anything to do with me. For the longest time, I subconsciously without meaning to-- assumed my real father was like the black families that had the single mom and no dad. I assumed he was in prison. But I found out later in third grade that he actually didn’t want me, and I also found out what he looked like. Truthfully, his mugshot looked like it could have been criminal material. But that’s not fair to judge someone based on that, yet I couldn’t bring myself to care about that. He didn’t care about me, he didn’t want me and so, he should receive the same treatment.

That small sub-story aside, my mom claims that she constantly worked in the earlier years of my life. Always making sure I had the best Christmases and birthdays, trying in her effort to spoil me and not spend that much time with me. And when I wanted to try to spend time with her, I would become some part of a nuisance. I was always upset from this because I wanted my own mom to spend time with me. To notice me, to play with me and to enjoy being around me. Which eventually did happen, and sadly it was those times she was out of work for periods of time. Looking back at it now, she should have tried harder to look for work since the 90s was the PRIME time to immediately pick back up a job as soon as you’re let go. She would go months without a job before landing another one. From a child’s point of view, that’s great! I finally get to play video games, go out and go for rides with my mom for once and enjoy more of her presence. I get to enjoy more quality time and not have to experiencing the feeling of longing. Now that I’m older looking back, she had the comfort of her parent’s paying for everything, she could honestly put her feet up and not have to worry too much about obligations. Wow, having this type of retrospective annoys me further.

We, well, I’ll rephrase that. I have always lived in the same house, I have never moved or relocated temporarily for anything. There was an incident that happened in third grade between my mom and my grandpa that caused a rift strong enough for her to have left the house for a few months. While I was at school one day, she came to pick me up and she wasn’t her usual self. I asked her what’s wrong and she was quiet. I was going to ask her again, but she told me that her own father pulled a knife on her and was threatening her. She said that she was going to go away for “a little while” and doesn’t know when she’ll be back. That’s what she told me. So when I got home, it felt weird to be home knowing that. I asked Nana what happened, I always talked to Nana. I loved her and I looked like her, almost felt like I was talking to an older version of myself. She told me that Granddad and mom got into a fight because he was tired of her clubbing and partying with her friends instead of coming home and taking care of me, since the previous night she came home a lot later. Which was true in the sense that, when I was getting ready for school, she still wasn’t home. Through a public school education and ability to read military time, I knew she wasn’t home yet. I woke up earlier to see if she would be home, she wasn’t. Due to the situation that had transpired, she ended up living with her friend, instead of staying home with us.

I was upset because guess what, I was abandoned. She packed almost all of her clothes too, which really bothered me because I would always ask “When’s mommy coming back?” and no answer-- no correct answer that offers an estimation of when. So the one time my mom came to visit, she and her dad got into a fight. There was yelling, a lot of yelling. And my Nana also, was yelling at them to stop, and I just freaked out and cried louder than all of them. I don’t like fighting, honestly. I really don’t like conflict, especially the type that could have potentially escalated back then. I was on the floor of at the time, my Nana’s room, and cried and said to make it stop. “I don’t want mommy to go away anymore. That’s not fair.” Because it’s not, how the hell are you going to leave and try to stay gone, leaving your child behind? Who the fuck does that? Apparently, parents that aren’t just my mother but I digress since this isn’t going to turn into examples of abandonment. In the end, she moved back but things didn’t feel the same. Things weren’t ever the same.

A year later, my Nana died while I was in fourth grade. Seven years later, my grandpa died while I was in my junior year of high school. Puberty had me resent the people I lived with, but to a grander scale that I purposely caused a rift within those relationships. Why? Because knowing someone I used to love and enjoy spending heavy time with, made forts in the living room just so I was near them, and go on car rides no matter how long with them-- would do that to someone else they supposedly brought life into the world. It put into view that even those closest to you, could cause harm-- physical, mental or emotional pain to those around you. In fairness back then, I was a teenager, I was angsty and very irritable but I was also dealing with depression to a level that I couldn’t imagine. Honestly, I didn’t even think I had depression. I remember looking up the symptoms one day, and wondered if my previous doctor’s visit to my pediatrician was the reason why he told me to leave the office and talk to my mom. She apparently was upset and annoyed that he would even suggest that to her, but she wouldn’t tell me directly. I even outright told my mother that I had depression and suffer from being anxious types of anxiety I couldn’t place. When I was a teenager, I accepted in a bizarre fashion that my life wasn’t valuable and that no one cared. That I wasn’t relevant and that at the end of the day, I was a mistake brought into the world by someone that could have easily gotten an abortion. Harsh, but I didn’t care at the time. I sometime wonder if I truly still feel that way. I valued my friendships I made at school and online much more than I do my own living family members. Family isn’t limited to just blood relations, it really isn’t. Not all family members and interactions are good for everyone. Sometimes, family enjoys holding you back from where you really want to go in life and what you truly want to do. I told myself at fifteen I would get my driver’s license and make a point to move out at the earliest convenience. I also wanted to visit my Nana and Grandpa’s graves as often as I can and talk to them, lay flowers and enjoy remembering them when they were at their healthiest. None of my friends even remotely know that that was one of my plans because I feel guilty for not helping them as much as I did when they were alive. Sadly, that never happened because my own mom refused to help me. I’ve had problems asking for help as early as second grade, because I don’t like being made fun of. I don’t. That’s unfortunately why I have the mentality that asking for assistance is for the weak. I’ve been getting better in the last four years with asking for help, but it truly makes me wonder if the person assisting me actually wants to help me or if I’m annoying them.

Did you know that even to this day, at twenty-four years of age, I still don’t have my license? That I have to find my own way to do it anyway because family isn’t always helpful?

The ironic part is, the people that have passed away, my Nana and Grandpa, I wish they were still alive. I may have grown to resent the latter, but honestly, I wish he was here. I wish they were both here. The left before my life could even start properly and I could use some guidance. My mother is definitely not the best person to ask, granted she’s made her fair share of mistakes but I honestly don’t want to turn out like her. I don’t want to turn into someone that can’t accept the blame and reality of their actions, but feel compelled to use the nearest person as a scapegoat. I don’t want to be someone that listens to things only based on hearsay. If for some reason I have kids (I hope I don’t personally), I don’t ever want to treat that everything that they say is a lie, but if their friends say something similar or identical to what I did, I will be moved and feel more empathetic. I don’t, in my lifetime, want to live with someone that can’t properly handle finances because they spent at least a little over half their life living with their parents and not really having to pay anything. Yet when they realize they’re living with a roommate, they’re struggling. I don’t want to be someone that is gossipy, money-hungry for other people’s money and someone that passive-aggressively passes off judgement, making the person feel shitty for anything they ever said or did. I never, ever or again want to be seen as a perpetual liar / exaggerator due to how she goes on about stories and “trials” she’s had.

Unfortunately, I am a product of her, which means I have picked up some of her habits but for awhile, I am constantly irritated with how she handles herself and situations. I’m constantly annoyed with who she really is as a person. I’m tired of complaining about her to my friends and those that want to listen or have no choice but to listen since I will rant regardless. I’m just so tired of being around someone that doesn’t know how to care for herself because she literally wants others to do it for her. I’m. Exhausted. From. Dealing. With. Her. I have to remind myself constantly, I am a product of her but I am not her.

Though I hold an abundance of contempt towards my own mother, I do still wish her well. If I was a teenager, I would have said something rather cruel like hoping she died or something. But honestly, I’ve grown from that era of angst and desiring acts of revenge against her, I just want her well. I want her to live well and comfortably by herself. I want her to know that though she is an irritating piece of work, that I still care, love and appreciate her for all the things-- no matter the size, I’m grateful.

Just, I’m tired of her, that’s all.